


Diving Deep

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Gift Exchange, M/M, MerMay, Mermaids, Secret Santa, cloqwork, mermaid au, ozqrow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19016062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: There's something off about Ozpin Pine and his young son Oscar. Something to do with their too curious natures, kind quirks, and strange aversion to water.Qrow, sucker that he is, likes them all the same.





	Diving Deep

**Author's Note:**

> So... three guesses who has a shit memory? If you guessed "Clyde" congratulations! You win! I actually wrote this for 2018's Cloqwork Secret Santa exchange and then promptly forgot to crosspost it here. Luckily, there's two days left in MerMay. Love it when that happens.

“ _Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream! Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream. Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream_ —”

“Holy shit, kid, you’re twelve. Don’t you know any other songs?”

Oscar blinked, finally drawing his gaze away from the aquarium. The hallway they stood in had water on both sides as well as above, a dome that never failed to leave Qrow’s stomach queasy because good _god_ what happened if that glass ever broke? Oscar had no such reservations. He pressed right against the barrier—things with teeth passing him by—until the water rippled off his skin and there was a green tint to his eyes.

“I’m fourteen,” he said, head cocked strangely against the glass.

“That’s worse.”

Oscar shrugged. “I like it. The song I mean. _Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. If you meet the kelpie’s eyes, don’t forget to scream_.”

…What the actual fuck?

It wasn’t the first time the kid had said something totally off the wall. Qrow leaned on his mop, watching Oscar tap the glass until, coincidentally, a bright orange fish swam up to where he stood. Qrow had worked at Atlas Labs nearly a year now and knew that, no matter what Ozpin claimed, they were only surrounded by a bunch of dumb animals. You couldn’t train a fish to come when called, no more than he’d been able to train Oscar to be marginally less annoying. Honestly, what the ever loving hell was a kelpie?

“Hey.” Qrow tapped his boot until Oscar finally looked his way. The fish immediately swam off. “If you’re just gonna stand there how about you help me wipe down the glass?” That way Qrow didn’t need to go near all that nonsense. “All boys your age should have chores. Builds character. Or something.”

For reasons unknown to him Oscar’s eyes strayed to the bucket full of water next to Qrow’s feet. He split into a grin.

“Nope! Tell Dad I said hi!”

And Oscar scurried off, boots squeaking on the tiled floor as he disappeared around a corner. He’d left smudges on the glass and a scuff where he’d stood. Great.

Another bug-eyed fish bumped against the glass parallel to Qrow’s head. He scowled.

“What the hell are you looking at?”

***

Atlas Labs. Renowned world-wide for their cutting advancements in marine biology. Not exactly the sort of research that got Qrow all hot and bothered, but what could he say? People were weird. Apparently while most looked to the skies for answers to Earth’s problems, the real scientists were turning to the many mysteries of the seas. Our origins, future, even a chance at immortality—all of it was hidden somewhere beneath the waves. At least, that’s what Ozpin claimed.

Not that Ozpin was any less weird than his son.

“Your brat says ‘hi.’”

Lithe and tall enough to hit his head on the occasional hanging lamp, Ozpin Pine presumably had his picture printed next to the dictionary definition of ‘eccentric.’ Qrow had never seen him in anything other than a wrinkled green suit (not the same one every day… surely?) and a lab coat stained with all sorts of things that he never needed identified, thanks. A mop of white hair looked perpetually windblown despite the fact that the man rarely stepped outside and Oz wore these teeny tiny glasses that couldn’t possibly help a flea see, let alone a grown-ass man. He wore rings on his fingers, a long line of earrings, and had hidden tattoos that Qrow sometimes caught peeking out from beneath the cuff of his shirt. It hurt to look at him. In the same way it hurt to look at an ongoing car wreck while being blinded by the sun. Ozpin was, simply put, an oddball.

And Qrow would have laid down his life for him.

Heh. Not to be dramatic or anything, but there weren’t many world-renowned scientists in this place who’d design to speak kindly to their janitor. Or speak to him at all. His first day Ozpin had slipped a sweet from his pocket into Qrow’s hand, made some horrendous joke, introduced Oscar as “My much beloved offspring” ( _what?_ ), and capped it all off with the warmest smile Qrow had ever had the privilege of soaking up. Those scraps of kindness would have bred devotion on their own, but Ozpin genuinely seemed to like him, as ridiculous as that seemed. Qrow had thought this job was going to be the worst of the many he’d grabbed in the last three years. Instead it was…

Interesting. Yeah. It was something alright.

Ozpin had no inkling of Qrow’s inner judgement. He was too busy comically looking around the floor, or roughly around the height where a pint-sized teen might stand.

“My brat?” he asked, smiling so wide the florescent lights glinted off his back teeth. He took another candy from his pocket and munched it, seemingly thoughtful. Qrow had heard the other scientists bitching about Ozpin bringing food into the labs, claiming that it would attract animals. Like they weren’t already surrounded by animals. Duh.

Qrow eyed the tank in the far corner of Ozpin’s office. Like every other room in Atlas it was a space with aquarium tendencies, though this tank wasn’t listed on any of the public tours. The fish in there were clearly some special experiment of Oz’s, with bright neon strips on top and transparent bodies below. Qrow caught a glimpse of fish skeleton and swallowed back a gag.

“Yes, your brat. He kept bugging me while I cleaned the entryway. Don’t you have a leash for him or something?” Qrow started emptying the trash bins while Oz watched, gaze so focused it seemed to sizzle a hole in the back of his uniform. He did a lot of that. Watching. Qrow had also heard the other nerds complaining about Ozpin’s overly observant nature, saying he wasn’t just intense, but downright creepy.

Weren’t science types supposed to be curious about everything though? If Ozpin wanted to examine the slope of Qrow’s ass, then by all means.

He bent a little farther while picking up the next can, just in case that really was what Oz was interested in. Gray slacks and beige boots weren’t exactly the height of fashion, but Qrow was confident in his ability to work even the saddest of outfits. Besides, it wasn’t like Ozpin had room to judge. Today he had a stack of jelly bracelets on his left wrist and an octopus pin on the collar of his coat. The man was a hodge-podge of strange adornments, wearing each and every one like they were actually fashionable.

Months he’d been at this job and Qrow was still trying to figure out if the man was just that dense or just that indifferent. Besides, none of this even touched on Ozpin’s tendency to—

“I’m afraid not. I tried a leash of kelp once and Oscar slipped right out of it. He always was such a nimble little fry.”

—say weird shit.

Like father, like son. Apparently.

Qrow paused in the act of dumping five billion used tissues into his cart. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was 10:00 at night and he didn’t have the energy to tackle whatever the hell a kelp leash was. Instead Qrow raised a single finger, letting it flop. “Nimble fry? Should I serve Oscar up with ketchup tomorrow?”

Which resulted in Ozpin throwing his head back and laughing—literally, like something out of a cartoon. His desk was a mess of papers covered in rainbow highlighting and the bookcase next to that was organized by color rather than genre. Or heaven forbid, last name. Between those and the fish (and his iffy fashion sense) Ozpin was surrounded by color in the otherwise sterile room. It was like this wherever he went. Ozpin blended in with the vibrant life of the tanks around them; always looking like he was more at home with the water just out of reach. Qrow supposed that was a good thing for a man who’d devoted his life to marine biology. It did make one wonder about stupid, sappy things though. Like fate maybe. What kind of man was born with eyes the color of sand and a smile that lit you up like a glimpse of the horizon?

Sometimes Qrow wondered if he’d hear waves if he listened for Oz’s heartbeat. Would he taste salt on his lips?

Right now Qrow had neither. All he could smell was trash.

“A fry is a juvenile fish,” Ozpin said, still wiping tears from his eyes. “Ah, but you’re a fry too, aren’t you, Qrow? So very young. I wouldn’t expect you to know such things.”

Ozpin came up and actually gave his cheek a pat, like some doting grandmother humoring her young charge. Qrow got a close look at his unlined face and could see how soft his hair was, with none of the wiry texture that usually accompanied gray strands. For a man who loved teasing him about his age (not nearly as young as people tended to assume), Ozpin didn’t look a day over thirty himself. It was just one more of his oddities. Qrow had stopped bothering to count them long ago.

Instead he leaned into Ozpin’s touch when his hand decided to rest on his cheek a moment too long, like some rare bird designing to visit. Ozpin’s fingers were cool as their pads lightly took in the texture of Qrow’s skin. He thought he saw Ozpin’s pupils dilating, blowing black against brown, though that may have just been a trick of the light.

“Is anyone gonna let me do some actual work around here?” he finally groused. A moment longer and Qrow might not have let Ozpin go.

“You should be very proud,” he said, voice carrying a touch of awe that didn’t sit right with the rest of the scene. Ozpin was looking at a bio waste bag. “You have such a wonderful job.”

Qrow stared. Then he looked down to make sure that yes, he was still a janitor and yes, those were drops of day-old coffee on his shoes. A smear of something vile-smelling on his sleeve. Everything else was disinfectant.

“I do?”

“Of course! Why, it’s a service. You keep things neat and sterile. You help make sure my family has a lovely home to keep coming back to.” Ozpin rested his hand on the tank and all the fish congregated around his reflection. Must think it was time for food or something. Qrow was used to the term ‘family’ getting thrown out when Ozpin was speaking and slimy, big-eyed fish were involved. That hardly fazed him nowadays.

The idea that someone found janitorial work impressive? _That_ was something out of left field. Qrow could feel the blush now staining his cheeks.

“Guess I’m not the worst at it,” he muttered, taking up his bag again because damn, he couldn’t look Ozpin in the eye when he got like this. He was expecting another non-sequitor into the new book he was reading, or maybe the fact that Oscar had started collecting forks again (don’t ask). Instead Qrow felt a touch at the crook of his arm, as gentle as when Ozpin had touched his cheek. He stepped closer.

“You truly are marvelous,” Ozpin whispered.

“…Do you hear the stuff that comes out of your mouth?”

“Oh yes. Sometimes I’m the only one who hears. Except Oscar, of course…and you. You’ve always heard me, haven’t you, Qrow? Tell me, do you enjoy the music?”

Must just mean music. In general, like. Qrow suspected that Ozpin was foreign, slipping articles in where none where needed because there certainly wasn’t any music playing now.

…Right?

He wasn’t holding the trash bag anymore. It was thrown haphazardly across his cart, now replaced with Ozpin’s cool and surprisingly smooth hand. Qrow stared down at the appendage, reeling, wondering when that had happened and why. How many times was the man going to touch him tonight—freely—when he’d kept some sort of distance all these months before?

“You _do_ hear,” Ozpin murmured, seemingly to himself. “And Oscar is so very fond of you…why, we both are.” His contemplative look suddenly split like ripe fruit, revealing a blinding smile beneath. “Come, Qrow. Let me show you.”

“Show me what?”

_Don’t ask too many questions. You’ll spoil the fun_. Ozpin had said that to him once when Qrow had feigned an interest in all his nasty fish, figuring that maybe he’d have some sort of chance if there was a shared interest between them, even a faked one. Instead his words had been rebuffed, Ozpin seeming to stare through him to the lie beneath, finding it all very humorous. Qrow wasn’t surprised that his questions weren’t answered now.

Instead Ozpin led him down the long corridors of Atlas labs, their steps echoing and their breathing overly loud. The aquarium around them shifted with dark blues and greens. The fish seemed to follow, waiting.

It occurred to Qrow then that they were the only ones here. He was the late-night janitor. Ozpin was the workaholic who never seemed to sleep. The only thing that broke the isolation was Oscar’s voice drifting faintly down the hall as he sang that insistent song. _Row, row, row, your boat._ Where to though? They were the only ones here and suddenly that seemed as much a possibility as a threat.

_Don’t forget to scream._

Qrow opened his mouth, but all that came out was a soft, devoted sigh. He stepped into the water.

…water?

“There you are,” Ozpin said. It came out as a coo. “Quite lovely, isn’t it?”

He’d taken him to one of the wading pools. _Into_ the wading pool, where the wildlife swam free, providing the scientists with a place to get up close and personal with their research. A tiny part of Qrow’s mind expressed surprise that Ozpin had stepped in with him—he and Oscar had always had such a strange aversion to touching water, despite their love of it. Filled boots. Wet pants sticking to his ankles, now his thighs. A slightly larger part of him was sending off panicked signals, claiming that he never _ever_ wanted to be this close to a bunch of fish. There were little guppy things scurrying about. Rays with long tails. What might have been a small shark. Everything circled around them as they moved forward, a whirlpool of all the things Qrow had wanted to avoid since taking this position.

Except for Ozpin. Qrow waded deeper, moving towards him and him alone.

“You heard, Qrow. Do you see too?”

Dumbly, Qrow stared down at their still clasped hands. There were membranes between Ozpin’s fingers now and when he smiled his teeth had grown sharper. He’d grown more.

There was a ledge where the pool connected to the tank, a space between the two worlds just large enough for the kinder animals to slip through. Or perhaps two men. One man and… Ozpin; who pulled Qrow under with a forceful, determined tug.

He’d always thought it would be boring under the water. All dark and silent. Far from it though. When Qrow first jerked in panic Ozpin was there, his tattoos, his _scales_ bright within the pool’s gloom, casting little prisms between them. His tail pulled Qrow close while his pupils narrowed into slits. There were tender, clawed hands bowing his shoulders.

There was a moment of suspension then, poised somewhere between bobbing and swimming. Qrow caught Ozpin’s gaze and gave himself up to drowning in those eyes.

_Well done_ , they seemed to say. A mouth filled with teeth and fierce possession leaned in for what might have been a kiss.

Qrow had always taken his chances. He met Ozpin halfway and what do you know.

He tasted salt.


End file.
